


Where the shadows lie

by evilgiraff



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-04
Updated: 2012-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-17 23:16:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilgiraff/pseuds/evilgiraff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He should probably know not to take things at face value, but the ring, nestled on his finger, is soon forgotten.  A comment!fic inspired by photos posted at the LJ community jim_and_bones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the shadows lie

They're stuck in this backwater planet for the next couple of months, babysitting before the delayed xenoculture specialists arrive to get the people ready for full integration into the Federation. In the meantime, it means boredom in orbit for most of the crew, who are taking short bursts of shore leave in shifts every week or so. For the senior crew, it means meetings and dinners and weird cultural and religious celebrations.

They continually insist on giving the captain gifts, so he doesn't think twice when the wizened old shaman (or doctor, or sorcerer – his title doesn't translate all that well) gives him the ring. He slips it on the second finger of his left hand – not the third, that's reserved for another purpose, years in the future – and it fits snugly, as if it were made for him. The stone is large, almost colourless aside from a hint of smoky grey. Considering how often away missions go awry because things aren't what they seem, he should probably know not to take things at face value, but the ring, nestled on his finger, is soon forgotten.

Several days later, one of the crew members on shore leave remarks on the captain looking tired. McCoy overhears, and sends Jim home early from that evening's festivities. The shaman, who is also attending as a guest, smiles at the captain as he leaves and raises a glass in salute.

A week or so after that, Jim is late to a morning meeting. Spock rouses him out of his bed and escorts him to the correct room, then immediately goes to Sickbay.

“Doctor McCoy, may I speak with you?” McCoy looks round from his patient, surprised that the first officer would arrive unannounced, and even more surprised that he looks – for a Vulcan – ever so slightly agitated. His posture is tense, his gaze intense. If it weren't for the fact that this is Spock, McCoy would say he looks worried. McCoy nods, gestures at his office, and turns back to his patient.

A few minutes later, McCoy joins Spock. “What's wrong? And don't tell me you're here just to pass the time of day, because we both know that's not the case.”

“Indeed.” Spock, though he may look a little ruffled, sounds as calm as ever. “As you have deduced, I believe there is something wrong with the captain.”

“Oh yes? What's he done this time?”

“The captain is showing persistent signs of fatigue, doctor. Given our current dearth of strenuous activity, it is surprising. In addition to this, I have noticed a change in his appearance. It is illogical, but it is nonetheless present.” His eyebrows twitch together in the barest hint of a frown.

“What change? Come on man, spit it out.”

Spock takes a deep breath, straightens his back. “Doctor, I must report that I have witnessed a certain decrease in the captain's ocular pigmentation.”

“What? His eyes are losing their colour? Don't be ridiculous,” McCoy scoffs.

“As I previously noticed, it is illogical. However, it is also quite clear. I suggest you observe for yourself to ascertain the veracity of my statement.” Spock nods to him, then walks briskly out of Sickbay.

The following day, McCoy corrals the captain into Sickbay, and takes a good look at him.

“What the hell, Bones?”

McCoy ignores him, just continues looking him over, then frowns, and scans him with the tricorder.

“Bones, stop it. What's going on?”

McCoy looks up, meets his eyes, and does a double take. “Lights, 100 percent.”

“Don't make me order you to explain, Bones,” Jim says, irritably. “What the hell are you doing?”

“There's been some concern over your well-being. How are you feeling, Jim?”

“Fine. I'm fine. A bit tired, but then what do you expect from all this running around after politicians and dignitaries? It'd wear anyone out.” He smiles, the corners of his eyes settling into soft folds.

“Hmm.” McCoy puts his hands on Jim's shoulders, their faces only a foot or so apart. “Open your eyes. Let me see.”

“What? Bones, don't be ridiculous.” Jim pushes ineffectually at the doctor's hands.

“Come on. Look at me, Jim.”

Reluctantly, the captain raises his eyes, stares into McCoy's. The doctor gasps, recoils, then leans in to look again. “I don't know what's going on here, Jim, but Spock is right. Your eyes are the wrong colour. This makes no sense. Have you done anything out of the ordinary recently?”

Jim gives him a weak smile. “What, aside from the meetings and dinners and all that?”

“You've not eaten anything too weird?”

“No!” Jim waves his hands in the air for emphasis. “I've not done _anything_ weird.”

McCoy frowns at him, looking at his hands. “Since when do you wear jewellery? And big gaudy blue rings, at that?”

Jim looks flummoxed. “The shaman dude gave it me, I just haven't taken it off. And it's not blue, it's clear, grey maybe, but not blue.” He trails off, holding his hand out in front of him.

Both of them stare at the ring on Jim's finger, the ring that's the exact shade that his eyes ought to be.

“Oh shit,” Jim says, tugging the ring off his finger and staring at it in horror. “Now what do we do?”


End file.
